Loosing My Faith
by Tribble Master
Summary: Cas/Anna Set pre fall, fourth season spoiler. Somethings not right, but it's easier to pretend everything's okay.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kirpike's marvelous creations.

Hmm, my first Castiel piece that's longer than 100 words....let's see how this goes. ...

**Loosing My Faith **

In the beginning He stretched out his arms and the stars were born. As their limbs began to move, and shake off the celestial dust, their existence solidified. He made sure to keep them as cold and unfeeling as their origins.

Time seemed to jump forward in leaps and bounds to the observing stars.

In a few short millennia they had developed into graceful works of arts, His Angels. That could not be said of his later creations, which flopped onto this earth from the mud. They looked like monkeys, but the Angels kept doing as their Father said. They watched.

They watched as one awful day, their Father walked away.

For the first time fear snaked through the garrisons.

"What will we do now?" Asked the timid Angel Castiel.

"What we always will," his superior, Anna chided, barely containing her nervousness.

In the lower ranks, Zachariah was hissing into other's ears- "We got to reorganize … Somebody's got to take command…"

"You?" Uriel snorted.

"Maybe…" Zachariah scrunched his eyebrows. "But I was thinking…"

The smarter Angels knew to write him off as insane when he proposed his apocalyptic ideas. But nobody ever called Michael smart- fierce, loyal, fervent, not someone to be reckoned with- but not always original.

Michael's booming voice echoed in the corridors of heaven as called everyone to meet in the red anteroom. He wove them a tale of Demons, dying to release Lucifer. Father was gone now trying to stop it, and they had to help to. "Just follow me," he said congenially. Passion filled his voice as hesitant Angels listened with fears. The feared, especially, that He might be listening.

He wasn't listening anymore. He didn't hear the bout of careless whispers, the scheming, or the hidden plans.

The Archangels had one command, to be brute force. They knew to follow one leader. And when there wasn't a leader, they did the next best thing. Michael needed help, and they needed work.

In short order, Heaven was rebuilt on a foundation of chaos.

Castiel meandered the hallways, going from observation to the next. His garrison had been tasked with finding all the portals from Hell that could possibly be used. Now that Zachariah had been promoted over him, his orders were becoming more twisted and convoluted. Only last week (a year of Earth time), he had been tasked with watching some Cross Roads Demon scum to make sure she made a deal with Dean Winchester.

But why, Castiel wondered, was it so important that they send undeserving souls to Hell? It didn't seem very heavenly. If Sam Winchester had been so important, Castiel could have saved him himself.

He looked up at the approaching foot steps. "Anna," he nodded.

"Castiel," she said tossing her flame red hair over her shoulder, "the entire garrison is being called for an emergency meeting."

He nodded, and they sprinted to the meeting hall.

Zachariah stood at the head of the tables- "Tragic news my friends! The first seal has been broken!"

The Angels in the garrison looked at each other. Question flamed in their eyes, as they remained silent and attentive- Had all their work been for nothing? Hadn't they been trying to prevent just that?

"One of you," Zachariah continued solemnly, "inadvertently let an honest soul into Hell. His name is Dean Winchester and we must let him free."

Castiel raised one eyebrow. That wasn't right, he thought, his orders had been clear. He'd never disobey on purpose. Anna saw his look of puzzlement and tapped his shoulder. "You okay?"

He nodded, wanting to confide in her as a friend, but he couldn't. He'd already broken enough rules today.

Zachariah's booming voice continued, "Today, we dine in Hell! You have ten minuets to get battle ready and then meet at the gates!"

Zachariah waved a dismissive hand and the Angels fled to get their weaponry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The battle was terse and successful. Dean Winchester was saved. But who, wondered Castiel, will save us from our own confusion?

Anan's soft voice interrupted his thoughts, "Here, let me take care of that for you."

Castiel looked at his injured arm. A slight scratch that he'd won against one of the lower demons. "It's fine," he tried to protest.

She shook her head and wrapped the bandage around his arm. "Castiel, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He raised one eyebrow. "As a friend." She clarified, "in confidence."

Castiel looked around the locker room, double checking it was clear. "What's the matter Anna?" he asked causally, already knowing the answer.

"I think our orders are wrong."

The words hung in the air, dripping with poison. The mere suggestion of the impossible… "No," Castiel said forcefully, trying to fake the fervor in his voice.

She touched his jaw, turning him so their eyes locked. "Can't you see this isn't our religion anymore?"

Castiel touched her shoulder. He'd only know the Garrison, his duties, his orders… "It's all I have," he said honestly.

"No," she said, leaning in to him. "There's more."

She brushed his lips against his. He met her lips with equal passion.

"No!" he stopped, pushing her away. "Anna, I can't … we're not supposed to…"

Anna shook her head sadly. "I wish things were different Castiel... I wish you weren't so blind. Watch out for your self."

She walked out of the locker room, leaving him in stunned silence.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next morning he heard rumors of a fight. Between Anna and Zachariah. Uriel had confided in him, the suspicion that Zachariah was going to punish Anna. Even if he didn't agree, Castiel knew he had to do something to save her. He ran to the cloud top, and smiled to see her standing alone.

"Anna!" He called, surprising himself with the amount of joy he let slip into his voice. "I have to talk to you!"

Anna looked at him sadly and shook her head. She spread her arms and took one step over the cloud's edge, disappearing into the world below. Behind him, half the garrison was running up, armed to the teeth. One of his brothers called to him, "Where'd the blasphemous little red head go?"

Castiel stammered out some half truth to satisfy their cravings for violence.

Seeing their violent reaction to opposition, he suddenly understood exactly how perilous it was to disobey.

He knew his orders now.

He had watched as she fell.

But he wished he'd watched her warnings a little more closely.

**~end~**


End file.
